Silver and Cold
by Magdylena Black
Summary: When Puck was trapped in the port-a-john before Sectionals in Season 2, someone else saved him. Jeremy Black, the new guy on the football team has a secret of his own, one that's begging to get out. Eventual RoryxOC, rated for language.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello! Looks like you found this one. Just a few words before we begin, for anyone other than me that reads the author's notes. I have no smut planned for this story. It's got it's rating because my MC has a bit of a mouth. Also, I have no idea how often I'll be able to post, since I've got a bit on my plate between work, editing my book, and planning a move. Also, since this starts halfway through season 2, it'll be a while before we get to the RoryxOC. Just letting you know. Now, on with the story!

Chapter One

While Puck was trapped in the port-a-john, he had a lot of time to think things over. He knew he'd messed up a great deal of things, but he was determined to make things right. The light blinded him when the door was opened, but he could see the hand that was reaching toward him in an offering of escape.

"Dude, are you alright? You smell like shit," said the voice as he crawled out of the port-a-john that had been his prison. Puck blinked away the blindness and recognized Jeremy; new at school, new blocker for the football team.

"Thanks, man," Puck said. "I was stuck in there for hours."

"You were actually only in there for the ten minutes it took those Neanderthals to go away," Jeremy said.

"Oh," Puck said, running a hand over his mohawk. Then, a brilliant idea hit him. "Dude, think you can do me another favor?"

Jerermy shrugged. "Sure," he said. "Not like I'm doing anything right now, anyway."

"We're one short in Glee, and Sectionals is tonight," Puck said. "Think you could sway in the background for us?" Jeremy shrugged again.

"Sure," he said. "What do I need to do?"

"Just come with me to the choir room, we'll get everything straightened out there," Puck replied. Jeremy nodded.

"Lead the way," he said, motioning towards the school.

Mag was worried. She'd been at McKinley High for exactly two weeks, and her cover was already under fire. The only people that knew she wasn't really Jeremy Black were the principal and the counselor, and she knew they wouldn't talk. Her files were under lock and key; even the teachers couldn't get to them. She'd had to wave a lot of money around, but she'd been able to enroll as Jeremy and join the football team. She had to wrap her chest every day, and her gym class was the last of her school day so that she didn't have to worry about showering with the guys. Who would've thought that Glee Club would be the thing to endanger her front?

As she followed Puck to the choir room, ignoring his rambling about their costumes and songs, and the reason they were one short, she thanked her lucky stars that she was an alto. She could fake it for the tenor lines, but she was screwed if they asked her to cover bass.

With another lucky stroke, the guy she was standing in for had been some kind of soprano, so her notes were well within her range. The costume was simple, just a maroon button down and some black pants, but that, surprisingly enough, brought up the first suspicions.

"Dude, are you wearing a bra?" Finn asked as he buttoned up his own shirt.

"It's not a bra," Mag defended, throwing her arms through the sleeves of her shirt and starting the buttoning process at the top. "It's a brace. I fucked my back up in a car wreck a few years back, and I've got a couple metal plates in my back instead of discs. I've got to wear the brace for football practice. Lay off."

"Jesus, calm down, man," Sam said. "He was just asking a question."

There were no other threats to her secret, and, despite the drama in the green room, they managed to tie for first, which made them eligible for Regionals in a few months. Whether Mag would still be there for it, she wasn't sure, but they seemed like a decent enough group. Instead of celebrating with the group when they got back to McKinley, Mag took off, citing work.

"What kind of job makes a sixteen-year-old start their shift at seven o'clock at night?" Mr. Schuester, the Glee Club coach, asked her.

"The kind that keeps a roof over my head," she responded. "I got emancipated right before I moved here, and it was the only job that paid enough for me to get my apartment _and_ offered flexible hours so that I could continue with school. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd rather not get fired."

The beat was heavy as Mag wrapped her legs around the pole, letting the centrifugal force pull her torso out, giving the crowd a nice shot of her cleavage. She pulled her back to the pole, grabbing on as the world spun around her. Her legs spread as gravity reestablished its hold on her, and up was once again up. Leaving the pole, she crawled across the stage, allowing the faceless men to tuck ones and fives into her bra until she came across one face that made her pause.

"Jeremy?" Puck asked, a five dollar bill clutched in his hand and a look of shock across his face.

"We'll talk in my dressing room," she whispered, pressing up against him and taking the five dollar bill. "Tell them you're there to see Mag."

She moved on to the next patron, her sultry show face well in place, despite the worry streaking across her mind. Her secret was blown.

Mag's song ended, and she headed back to her dressing room, a silky robe wrapped around her body and a wad of cash in her hand. When she opened the door, he was sitting in the chair at her vanity, so she collapsed on the couch.

"So... you're a chick?" he asked slowly, as if searching for a tactful way to broach the subject.

"You can't tell anyone," she said, throwing an arm over her eyes. "I can't deal with that right now."

"Why the cover?" he asked. "Why come to school as a guy when you work in a strip joint? If anyone at school knew about what you just did out there, you'd be a goddess."

"Yeah, but being a chick comes with emotions," Mag said. "As a guy, I can get through a day without some random friend coming up to me and saying 'Aww, what's wrong, Peach?' It just makes things a whole hell of a lot easier."

"That definitely explains why you never stick around to shower after practice," Puck said. Mag let her arm drop and sat up, lifting an eyebrow at him.

"Do you have any idea how gay that sounded just now?" she asked. Puck shrugged.

"Karofsky said you were probably embarrassed because you had a tiny dick," Puck said.

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure Karofsky's in the closet, so he'd be the one to say that," Mag said. "Look, I've had a shitty life, and pretending to be a guy makes dealing with it a lot easier. Is there anything I can do to make sure you won't say anything about this?"

"You realize it'll eventually get out, right?" Puck asked. Mag shrugged.

"I'm sure it will," she said. "But right now, you, Pillsbury, and Figgins are the only ones that know about me. Not even the teachers know. Hopefully, when word does get out, I'll be more ready to handle it." Puck nodded.

"I'll keep your secret if you stay in the Glee Club," he said. Mag laughed.

"What is it with you and that club?" she asked. "You don't seem like the singing type." Puck shrugged.

"I like it. And we need twelve members to compete," Puck said. Mag sighed.

"Alright, I'm in," she said. "It'll be nice to have a group of people to watch my back when everything goes down."

"When everything goes down?" he asked.

"I can't exactly expect everything to be peachy keen when people find out I'm actually female," she said. Puck nodded.

"The kids at our school are that stupid," he commented, as if to himself. "So what are you doing working at a strip club?"

"What are you doing visiting one?" she shot back.

"We just won Sectionals," he said. "I'm allowed to celebrate."

"Something's got to keep a roof over my head," she said. "I wasn't lying when I told Schuester I just got emancipated. That actually happened. And money doesn't exactly grow on trees. Food Stamps wouldn't have gotten me enough to eat, and Section 8 places aren't exactly in the best parts."

"So how did you get in here? Didn't you say you're only sixteen?" Puck asked.

"The owner's a friend of mine," she said. "He offered me a job as a server, but I make better money on the stage. He doesn't actually have to pay me anything, but we've got a direct deposit account set up for tax purposes. All of the money goes back to him, and he owns the building that I rent at."

"So you're doing everything by the books, but still coming out on top?" Puck asked. Mag raised an eyebrow at him again.

"You think this is coming out on top?" she asked. "I take off my clothes, strange men grope me, and my money comes out of my ass crack half the time. But the bills get paid, and I only have to work a few nights a week in order to live on my own."

"Doesn't seem too bad," he said.

"And it'll all be over in a couple of years, when I finish high school and head off to college," she said. "Max'll give me an outstanding reference as an employer _and_ a landlord, and I'll have enough saved up to go to college without accumulating thousands of dollars in student loan debt."

"Huh," Puck said, eyebrows raised in appreciation for her scheme. "Think he might be in need of a bouncer? I could use some extra cash." Mag laughed.

"I'll check with him later," she said. "In the mean time, think I can get my dressing room to myself? I gotta head home and work on my math homework."

"I've just got one more question," he said as he backed away towards the door. Mag nodded, urging him to go on. "That stuff you said about your back, was there any truth in that?" Mag scoffed.

"Do you think I'd be able to do what I just did out there if there was any truth to _that_ steaming pile of crap?" she asked. "But a story like that will be enough to keep people off of my back for a while."

"Huh," Puck said, nodding as he opened the door. "Makes sense."

"Now get outta here," she said, pushing him out the door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

No sooner than she shut the door and slipped out of her robe did the door open again. She held her robe against her body, thinking it was Puck again, and whirled around. Max was leaning against the doorframe, his body shaking in silent laughter.

"What's up, Max?" she asked, throwing her robe to the couch and grabbing her street clothes.

"Just checking one of my girls," he said. "Who was that guy?"

"Just someone from school," she said, throwing her shirt over her head.

"I take it he knows your secret now?" he asked.

"No shit," she said. "Recognized me when I was going around for my tips."

"I take it he's gonna keep his trap shut?" he asked.

"We made an agreement," she said, pulling her pants on.

"What kind of agreement?" he asked, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Not that kind of agreement," she said, throwing her hairbrush at him. "He'll keep his trap shut as long as I stay in the Glee Club at school." Max raised an eyebrow. "I know, right?"

"How's that gonna help you keep your secret?" he asked, closing the door and lounging on the couch. "Don't you have to sing in Glee Clubs?" Mag shrugged.

"I'm an alto," she said. "I can make it work."

"If you say so," he said, holding his hands up in defeat. "But they _will_ find out eventually."

"I am well aware of that," she said, wiping the make up off of her face. "But I'm bound to mess it up anyways. It'll be better if I have a group of people in the know, people to fall back on when the rest of the school tries to tear me apart." "As long as you know what you're doing," he said, sitting up. "How much was your take?"

"I haven't had a chance to count it yet," she said, handing him the wad of bills. "But it feels like a good five."

"Five hundred?" he asked, weighing it in his hands as she threw her shoulder-length hair back in a ponytail.

"No, five dollars," she said sarcastically. "Yes five hundred."

"Count it when you get home," he said, tossing the money back to her. "After you finish your homework."

"Sure thing, _Dad_," she said, putting the money in her backpack and throwing it over her shoulders. Max shook his head.

"One of these days you're gonna catch your death from the cold," he said.

"It's just across the alley," she said, heading for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow night."

Max waved her off, and she made her way out the back door, across the alley, and into her building without any hassle.

Her apartment wasn't huge, but it was more than enough for her. Two bedrooms, a bathroom with a _giant_ tub, a decent kitchen (with a dishwasher, thank God), and a balcony. It was more than she could've asked for, but it was the only thing Max had open when she had come running. She dropped her backpack on the table, hooked her mp3 player up to the speakers, and set some music on low before pulling out that dreaded math homework.


	2. Chapter 2

Despite Mag's expectations of disaster, the next day at school went rather smoothly. Nobody was whispering about her behind her back, nobody was outright mocking or scorning her, nobody was treating her any differently at all. She was surprised that Puck had kept his word, though she really shouldn't have been. Having a stripper owe you one was every high school boy's fantasy, after all.

Football practice, however, opened a whole new can of worms. She'd noticed Coach Bieste paying extra attention to her for the past week, but hadn't worried about it. She'd figured she was safe. That was, of course, before the coach asked her into the office after practice.

"Look, I know you think you're some kind of macho man or something, but you need to shower after practice," Bieste said. "If you don't, stuff will get disgusting, and you can make yourself sick."

"I get that, Coach," Mag had said. "But I can't shower with the rest of the guys."

"There's no reason to be as embarrassed, Black," Bieste continued. "They're just as naked as you are."

"That's the issue," Mag said. Bieste raised an eyebrow at her.

"Do I need to send you to Miss Pillsbury for some counseling?" Bieste asked. Mag took a step back.

"Oh no," she said. "It's nothing like that."

"Cool it down, Black," Bieste said. "No one's gonna hurt you over that, if that's what you're thinking."

"I'm serious," Mag said. "I'm not gay. I'm just..."

Mag paused to growl a bit under her breath.

"Did you just growl at me?" Bieste asked, lowering her eyebrows.

"No, I growled at me," she said. "I just figured this would be an easier secret to keep."

"Secret?" Bieste asked.

"My real name's Mag," she said. "Yes, the school's administration knows I'm a girl, no it's not any kind of gender identification or sexuality thing. And yes, I really do need you to keep this a secret."

"Did you do this just to join the football team?" Bieste asked. "Because you're one of the best blockers I've got."

Mag laughed.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "My reasons are, well, they're kind of personal. The team has nothing to do with it. The only reason I'm not showering after practice is that it would ruin my secret. And, you know, I _really_ don't need to see all that pubescent nudity. Nobody wants to see that. And, before you ask, yes, I am seeing Pillsbury; Figgins insisted on it."

"Black, you're my best blocker," Bieste said. "Do you think I care that you're a girl? If it means keeping you on this team, I'll keep your secret. But we still need to figure out your showering situation. With you being female, hygiene is even more important."

"I leave practice and go straight home and shower," Mag said. "It's no big deal."

"As long as your sure," Bieste said, leaning back in her chair. "And, just so you know, if anyone gives you trouble, you come and see me, got it?"

"Got it, Coach," Mag said. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm gonna head home and grab a quick shower before glee."

"Alright, so, since Sectionals just ended, and we just got a new member, I figured we'd do something fun," Shuester said half an hour later when glee started. "When I pick your name out of the top hat, you're going to come up here and sing a song that says something about who you are."

Mag was able to keep a cool expression on her face, but, inside, her mind was whirring. How the hell was she going to sing a song that said something about who she was without giving everything away? She pulled her mp3 player out of her bag, quickly cycling through the songs, dismissing this one because it was too girly, that one because it was too peachy keen. Luckily, Puck was called up first, and he was halfway through his rendition of Breaking Benjamin's 'Rain' when she found her song. Or, at least, when Jeremy found his. It was lucky for her because the next name out of the hat was hers.

"Well," she said, lowering her voice to make it seem less girly after making sure the band actually knew the song she wanted to sing. The guitarist had grinned at her when he nodded his ascent. "This is awkward. I just... start singing, right?"

Schuester nodded to her, and she turned around and nodded to the bassist. He opened up the song, followed by some keyboard hits and cymbal sticks, before a steady beat on the snare lead her into her song.

"At home, drawing pictures, of mountain tops, with him on top, lemon yellow sun," she sang, clinging to the mic stand in front of her for dear life, before raising her arms. "Arms raised, in a 'V,' and the dead lay, in pools of maroon below."

She brought her hands back to the stand before singing the next part.

"Daddy didn't give attention, oh, to the fact that, Mommy didn't care. King Jeremy, the Wicked, oh ruled his world. Jeremy spoke in, class today. Jeremy spoke in, class today.

"Clearly I remember, picking on the boy. Seemed a harmless, little fuck. Ooo, but we unleashed a lion, gnashed his teeth and bit the recess lady's breast! How could I forget? And he hit me with a surprise left, my jaw left hurting, ooo dropped wide open. Just like the day, oh like the day I heard.

"Daddy didn't give affection, no! And the boy, was something, that Mommy wouldn't wear. King Jeremy, the Wicked, oh ruled his world. Jeremy spoke in, class today. Jeremy spoke in, class today. Jeremy spoke in, class today!

"Try to forget this! Try to erase this! From the blackboard!

"Jeremy spoke in, class today. Jeremy spoke in, class today. Jeremy spoke in, spoke in. Jeremy spoke in, spoke in. Jeremy spoke in, class, today!"

As her voice and the music behind it faded out, she took stock of the group in front of her. Their faces were all frozen in different ways, however they'd been once they realized what the song meant. Searching for a response, any kind of response, and coming back empty, Mag once again took the reins.

"You were the ones that wanted a song that said something about who I am," she said. "You already know that I just got emancipated. Did you expect it to be sunshine and daisies?"

That seemed to get them out of their collective reverie, and a few of them began to clap as she sat back down next to Puck.

"Nice one, Jeremy," he said. Mag shrugged.

"They wanted something about me, they got it," she said as Rachel took center stage with a 'Broadway Classic.' "Whether they liked it or not is based off of their own judgment."

"You'd best be on the lookout," he said, nodding towards Santana. "Satan's got her eye on you." Mag let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like 'pshaw.'

"Let her keep her eyes on me," she said. "I'll be careful."

"You'll have to be more careful than you have been," Puck said, masking their words with applause for Rachel, who'd finished her song at this point. He waited until the next name was chosen, and didn't continue until Tina began her song, a ballad directed at Mike. "I mean, I found out, and now Bieste knows."

"Tell me about it," Mag whispered. "I didn't realize I was that noticeable."

"Also, be very careful about your song choice," Puck said. "You need to make sure not to pick anything that's either really girly, or going to make you sing like a girl."

"I think I just need guy lessons," Mag whispered, shuddering internally at the grin that had spread itself across Santana's face. "Any chance you'd be able to help me out?"

"What's in it for me?" he countered, waggling his eyebrows. Mag rolled her eyes.

"I'll talk to Max about getting you a job," she said. "Or, better yet, I'll hire you as my own, personal bouncer at the club, to keep all the other horny idiots at bay."

"Deal," he said, giving her a thumbs up.

"Alright, alright," Schuester said once Mike, the last one picked from the hat, finished his song. "Since Regionals isn't too far off, we really should be working on songs for that. _However,_" he continued, before Rachel could butt in, "it's getting close to the holidays, so I figured we could have some fun and focus on that. We'll start working on Regionals when we get back from break. Though I would appreciate it if you would start thinking about song choice. On that note, get out of here. I'm sure you've got better things to do than sit holed up in the choir room on a Friday night."

That night, Mag once again found herself defying gravity on the pole. The crowd was bigger than last nights (considering it was Friday), and there was a raucous of cheering around her. This time, she didn't see any familiar faces in the crowd, so she was pretty sure she was safe for the night. She did the usual round for tips at the end of her song, and smiled at Puck as he held out her robe for her when she was done. He, however, didn't smile back.

She raised an eyebrow at him, since the music was too loud to be heard over, but he just shook his head and nodded towards her dressing room. Mag nodded back, tied up the robe, and followed him back.

She got a shock when she saw Mr. Schuester leaning against the door to her dressing room, Santana Lopez leaning on the wall across from him.

A/N: The song used in this chapter is Jeremy, by Pearl Jam. I highly recommend it. Also, I know it seems like 'everybody's finding out! What kind of secret is that?' But, trust me, I know where I'm going with this. And no, there is no pedo-romance between Schue and Santana. All shall be explained.


	3. Chapter 3

"Who let you back here?" Mag asked, doing everything she could to hold her robe closed, despite the fact that it was already knotted.

"Your 'bodyguard,'" Santana said, nodding towards Puck with a smirk on her face. "Word to the wise; next time your trying to keep a secret, make sure you're not surrounded by a bunch of gossip-mongers."

"Who did you tell?" Mag asked, drawing herself as tall as her six inch platforms allowed her to. Santana's smirk remained plastered to her face.

"You're barking up the wrong tree, girlie," she said. "I haven't told anyone."

"If you didn't say anything," Mag said before turning to Mr. Schuester, "then why are you here?"

"I was driving by and saw Santana come in," he said. "I followed her, to make sure she was okay, and saw you on the stage and Puck by the door."

"Jesus," Mag said, shooing Schuester away from the door so that she could open it. "Am I really that easy to recognize?"

Santana shrugged, following her into the dressing room. The Latina took one look around the place, shrugged again, and perched herself on the arm of the couch.

"It's not so much an ease of recognition as it is a bit of research," she said. "I checked into Dayton Public. They didn't have a Jeremy Black on record... but they did have a Margaret Black, who had recently transferred out."

Mag had paled when Santana mentioned research. "What else did you find?" she asked, her jaw set in anger. Santana grinned smugly at her nails.

"Found your mother's arrest records," she said, grinning up at Mag. "Found all her marriage licenses as well. I was surprised at how many of those I found."

"Yeah, that bitch did like getting married to whatever piece of filth would have her," Mag said with a scoff.

"Sorry to interrupt what I'm sure would be a stimulating conversation about your parentage," Schuester began, "but I'm more concerned about having a student that... well, is in your employment situation." Mag shrugged.

"It pays the bills, doesn't interfere with school, and allows me to save up for college," she said.

"It's also illegal," he said. "You're only sixteen. You shouldn't have to work in a place like this."

"Are you shitting me?" Mag asked. "This is the best job I've ever had. There's no touching involved beyond picking up tips, and Puck's not the only thing that keeps the idiots that think they stand a chance at bay. Only reason you guys got back here without being harassed is because Puck didn't start anything. If he'd been trying to keep you away, the others would've picked up on it and helped him out."

"That doesn't change the fact that it's illegal for either of you to even be _in_ here!" Schuester said.

"Figures it'd be your room the shouting's coming from," Max said, leaning on the doorframe and startling everyone.

"You know me," Mag said, rolling her eyes. "Can't stay outta trouble."

"What's going on?" he asked, crossing his arms. Mag sighed.

"Max, this is Mr. Schuester, the Glee coach and my Spanish teacher, and Santana Lopez, busybody," she said. "Santana, Mr. Schue, this is Max, my employer."

"Do you regularly hire underage girls to take their clothes off?" Schuester asked, rounding on Max.

"Don't make assumptions on a situation you know nothing about," Max said darkly. "You have no idea what kind of place I pulled her out of."

Mag shrank away from the memories that assaulted her, but stood her ground.

"It can't have been so bad that _this_ is a better situation!" Schuester shouted.

"Why don't you shut your mouth about shit you don't understand?" Mag shouted right back. Schuester turned to look at her, a bewildered expression on his face.

"Mag, don't talk to your teachers like that," Max scolded. "It's not his fault he doesn't know the situation." Mag shook her head, standing firm.

"He has no fucking right to butt his head where it doesn't belong. I want a fucking apology. Just because he doesn't understand a situation doesn't give him the right to pass judgment."

"He's your teacher, Mag," Max said, trying to calm her down. "That's kind of what they do."

"Doesn't mean he should!" Mag shouted. "They don't understand! They don't know what I've had to put up with for the past sixteen years! The things people have done to me, the shit my own thrice damned mother put me through! They don't get it! And I hope, for their sake, they never do! But I refuse to stand here and be judged by someone that doesn't even know the entire story!"

"Then why don't you calm down and tell us?" Schuester asked, shouting to be heard. Mag stopped short, shocked at the interruption. Then, once she'd regained her composure, she shook her head.

"Not here," she said. "I'm not doing a confessional at a strip club. Let me get dressed, and we'll head over to my place and I'll spill, alright?"

"I'm coming with," Max said. "Make sure everybody keeps their heads." Mag nodded.

"Good idea," she said, shooing everyone out to the hallway so she could get her clothes back on.

A/N: Short chapter, I know. But it was a great place to cut it off, so I did. And the next one's up already anyways, so don't complain. XD


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: WARNING: Semi-descriptive child abuse in this chapter. Child molestation/rape mentioned. You have been warned. Also, I told you this one would be up!

Mag sat in her recliner, a cup of coffee clutched in her hands. Mr. Schuester, Puck, and Santana sat uncomfortably on her couch, each of them fidgeting, and Max leaned against the doorframe.

Mag took a sip of her steaming coffee, her knuckles white from holding the cup so tight, and began.

"I never met my father," she said, taking a deep breath. "The bitch that raised me had horrible taste in men, even then. She was sixteen, addicted to heroin, and nowhere near ready for a kid. But, for some God forsaken reason, she kept me. She dropped out of school and spent most of my life in and out of prison, mostly getting caught drunk or high. Nothing to stick, but enough for me to spend a great deal of time with my grandparents. The bitch got married for the first time when I was three. A real winner, too; some of my first memories are of Marco, sitting on the couch in our shitty apartment, snorting coke off of the coffee table or beating the shit out of my mom."

Mag paused, took another sip of her coffee, and let out a shuddering breath.

"My grandparents died in a car accident when I was four," she continued, "leaving me with no escape from mom, who would beat me every time Marco laid into her, each time screaming how it was my fault, how none of this would've happened if I'd never been born, or if I'd just do what I was told. She finally tossed him out a couple months before I started school, but got married a month later to Johann.

"Johann came from money, and had a giant house," she said, pausing for another sip. "Well, giant as far as my five-year-old mind could comprehend. Four bedrooms, five bathrooms, and a pool the size of this apartment. I got to sleep on a couple of pillows on the floor in the pantry. The beatings continued, but Mom was careful to make sure there weren't any bruises for my teachers to see. And she always warned me against telling anyone, saying that I was worthless, and nobody else would want me anyways, and always screaming that she wished I was never born.

"Two months later, they were divorced, and Mom and I were back in a shitty, one room apartment with nothing to our names but the clothes on our backs. There were a couple of teachers back then that cared enough to look into my home life, but Mom was always able to convince them that everything was okay, that we were just down on our luck, and she was doing everything she could for me. They'd go away, satisfied with her answers, and she'd beat me for letting on that something was wrong. I never said anything, but they'd notice something off, that I'd worn the same outfit four days in a row, that I never had money for lunch at school, that I looked like I hadn't showered in weeks... that one was the worst. After the teacher left, content that I'd been chastised for my lack of hygiene, Mom rounded on me.

"'So you don't shower enough, you little bitch?' she'd said, grabbing my arm and dragging me to the bathroom. It was by her rules that I wasn't allowed to bathe, she didn't want to waste the gas needed to heat the water. She filled the tub with ice cold water and dumped me in, clothes and all. She then proceeded to hold me under for a good minute before letting me breath again.

"By the time Mom was done 'bathing' me, I was clean, sure, but I was also missing a good three layers of skin, and there were a few places she'd scrubbed me so hard that I was bleeding.

"Mom started dating Max here when I was eight or so," Mag said, smiling over at Max. "Like I said, the bitch had horrible taste in men, but there's an exception to every rule. For the first time in my life, I had clothes that weren't older than I was, I got to bathe every day, and I got to eat everyday; multiple times a day, even. Mom was getting clean, and I was actually happy. But, of course, Mom had to fuck it up. She got a hold of some coke, grabbed me, and took off, back to Dayton.

"Teachers stopped checking in on me, whether because they figured I was a lost cause or they just couldn't tell me apart from the rest of the unfortunate kids I'll never know. But either way it's a failing on their part, because if I didn't need their help before my tenth birthday, I definitely did after."

Mag paused, taking another sip of her coffee, her hands shaking so bad that there were waves, but she managed to keep it either in the cup or in her mouth, so she wasn't about to complain.

"Vince was the name of my mother's husband when I turned ten," Mag continued, despite her voice shaking to match her hands. "He'd treated me better than most of the others, to the point where I actually had a bed, and I was allowed to eat every day or so. I even got a birthday cake for the first time since my grandparents had passed." Mag scoffed, shaking her head. "After ten years of shit, you'd think I'd have learned that everything comes at a price." She paused, and, after a moment, Mr. Schuester spoke.

"Are you trying to say what I think you're trying to say?" he asked, his face a mask of disgust. Mag nodded.

"Vincent was the first of many of Mom's significant others that raped me," she said. "After him, it was like a flood. They seemed to decide that, since she was either drunk or high beyond recognition I was old enough to be considered fair game."

"That's horrible," Santana said. Mag scoffed.

"At least the beatings stopped, for the most part," she said. "Until Mom would wake up and decide that I was trying to steal her husband or boyfriend or whatever. It wasn't until a couple of weeks ago, when she tried to kill me, that I finally got an out."

"Where were you when all of this was going on?" Puck asked, turning his angry eyes towards Max. "Why didn't you stop it?"

"I didn't know it was happening," he said. "Mag used to call me, catch me up on what was going on, and I'd do whatever I could to make it easier on her, but the calls stopped coming after her tenth birthday."

"And you didn't look into it?" Schuester asked.

"I did everything I could, but her Mom did everything she could to take her off the grid," Max defended. "The only thing I could find about her was what school she was attending, and they wouldn't let me in to speak with her! I didn't hear from her again until three weeks ago, when I got a call from the hospital, where she had put me down as her emergency contact."

"What happened that landed you in the hospital?" Santana asked, going over to sit on the arm of Mag's recliner and put an arm around her.

"Mom had, apparently, decided that sixteen years of living was more than enough," Mag said. "I'm not entirely sure what was running through her mind, but she came at me with a baseball bat, smacked me in the head, and broke my fall with a sink full of water. One of the neighbors heard something and actually decided to call the cops for once, and they showed up in time to pull her off of me and pull me out of the water. So now she's in jail for attempted murder, and I'm here in Lima, hoping to finish high school without a shit-ton of drama."

"Hence the 'Jeremy' disguise," Mr. Schuester said, nodding.

"Exactly," she replied. "It seemed like the easiest way to avoid drama. I've had enough of it for a lifetime, I don't need any more."

"You do realize that-" Mr. Schuester began, only to be cut off.

"It'll get out eventually that I'm a chick?" Mag finished for him. "I am aware. But I'll take whatever time I have before that preparing myself for what I'm sure is going to be an onslaught of hate."

"And it still doesn't explain your... profession," Schuester stated delicately.

"After everything I've been through, the occasional groping hand or smack on the ass is the least of my worries," Mag said. "And it keeps a roof over my head, food in my belly, and my savings account nice and plump for when I head off for college."

"It goes against everything I've ever done, but I won't say anything about your job," Mr. Schuester said after a moment's silence. "But, if I even catch the slightest hint of anything going further than that, I am obligated to report it."

"You won't be the first," Max said. "I'd rather get my_self_ arrested for having a minor working for me than let something like that ever happen to her again."

"But you'll keep my secret?" Mag asked, turning her doe-brown eyes on Mr. Schuester, who sighed.

"You realize that you've got a great group of kids who'll be at your back when this does eventually get out, right?" he asked. Mag raised an eyebrow.

"They just found out I exist two days ago," she said. "I doubt they'd have my back if someone said I was drinking from the wrong fountain, let alone using the wrong restroom."

"I'll keep your secret," Mr. Schuester began, heading for the door, "but I really think you're underestimating the other kids in the club."

"What about you, Santana?" Mag asked as Schuester let himself out. "Can you keep my secret?"

"I'll even do you one better," Santana said, pulling the other girl into a one-armed hug. "I'll be your beard."

"Do what?" Mag asked, pulling away. "What does that even mean?"

"We can pretend to date, to throw people off of the truth," Santana said.

"You realize that once people realize that I'm actually a girl they're gonna think we're lesbians, right?" Mag asked. Santana shrugged.

"As long as it gives you the time to get something figured out," she replied. "You're the one with the bigger secret."

"Thanks," Mag said, pulling the other girl into an even tighter grip before holding her at arm's length. "But now I've got to kick all of you out. I've got homework to finish, and I can hear the tub calling my name."

"I'll be back over sometime tomorrow," Santana said as she and Puck headed for the door.

"Why?" Mag asked, shooing them out.

"We've got a relationship to establish," she said. "Which means we've got to be seen together. Maybe we can head to the mall or something, do some Christmas shopping."

"Whatever you say," Mag said, rolling her eyes. "But there's no guarantees I'll answer the door if you're here before ten."

"Dually noted," Santana said, heading out to the alley.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow, too," Puck said. "For the... 'guy' lessons you so insisted on."

"Here," Mag said, writing down a number on a piece of paper on her kitchen counter. "This is my cell number. Call me to make sure I'm here before you just come over. And don't forget, we're working tomorrow night, too."

Puck nodded and shoved the paper into his pocket before heading off down the alley after Santana.

Mag shooed Max out after the pair of teenagers before closing the door, sliding the deadbolt home. She then headed for the bathroom to run a steaming bubble bath in hopes of washing away the memories of the past.

A/N: Yeah, I know. I'm treading dangerously into Mary Sue territory... but oh well. I like Mag, and since I've only got two people following this story, and not a single person that's looked at it has reviewed, I'm gonna keep going the way I have been. I'm not gonna touch on every episode; that'd just get tedious. But I'm gonna hit a few important parts. Well... important to me, anyways.

Next stop, Christmas!


End file.
